로그인Andre couldn't stop thinking about the family portrait, even after he had left it behind at Lucia’s, the image followed him long after he returned to the villa that evening. Even up until the next week, the mere thought of it continued to bother him and the more he thought about it, the clearer it became.Lucia talked, worried and asked about everyone yet she never talked about herself, even the stories she shared were always carefully chosen. She only talked about the safe memories, funny moments and made small observations. But whenever the conversation threatened to move into uncomfortable territory, she deflected and redirected it so naturally that most people would never notice.But Andre was beginning to notice and once he did, he saw it everywhere.The following Thursday, he arrived at her apartment carrying a bag of groceries and far more questions than usual.Lucia answered the door wearing an apron covered in flour."What are you making?" He asked, the sight of the apron beg
For the rest of the week, there were no answers to Lorenzo's questions, not because Andre did not have any answers to it but because he didn't know how best to respond to it.Those questions had caught him off guard in a way only a few things ever did.For years, he had watched Lucia carry the weight of their separation like a punishment she had willingly imposed on herself. He listened to her ask about Lorenzo countless times and she grimaced whenever his name popped up in their conversations. Yet, somehow, neither mother nor son had ever managed to cross the distance between them or reach out to each other.But now, for the first time, Lorenzo had taken a small, cautious step toward that distance while Andre had spent the next few days thinking about it way more than he should have. By Thursday morning, he found himself driving toward his mother's apartment with a lot of questions still lingering at the back of his mind.As he drove past the same roads and turns, the journey had b
The family portrait remained on the mantel till the next morning, nobody had moved it or suggested putting it away. It simply stayed there, leaning slightly against the polished wood as though it belonged right where it was. Lorenzo found himself looking at it several times throughout that day. At first, he told himself it was because of Matteo's interpretation of their reality. Marco looked perpetually angry. Isabella's hair was bright purple for reasons nobody could explain and Andre had appeared taller than any human being had the right to be. But Lorenzo knew that wasn't the real reason. His attention kept returning to the figure standing near the edge of the drawing. Lucia. Matteo had included her without hesitation or asking any uncertain questions. The boy had simply drawn her where he believed she belonged. With them. The simplicity of it was unsettling. Children had an irritating habit of running directly through problems adults spent years building around themselv
The discovery of the graduation clipping still stayed with the house way after the conversation had ended. The following morning, nobody really said much about it and yet its presence was still felt, it lingered in the pauses between conversations over breakfast and even followed Lorenzo through the villa like a shadow he couldn't shake off his back. For years, he had believed that whoever was absent felt indifferent but after the series of discoveries these past months, the recent sketchbook had finally challenged the belief and pointed toward a truth he was finding difficult to ignore. Lucia had watched but not closely enough to return or at least leave a knock on the door but just close enough to know all she needed too and the realization unsettled him because a part of him wanted to reject it but the other part could no longer deny what was right in front of him. The woman he had spent years resenting had apparently spent those same years quietly following aspects of his lif
The photograph remained on the dining room table as several people including the household staff couldn't help but steal side glances at it. Marco tried to identify the building in the background. Andre studied Lucia's handwriting while Isabella spent nearly an hour turning the photograph over in her hands, repeatedly reading the message written on the back. In the end, nobody could determine exactly what place Lucia had been referring to and the mystery lingered into the night.And by the following morning, the photograph had reignited everyone's curiosity. All through the past weeks, the family had been trying to piece together fragments of Lucia's life but it felt like every conversation seemed to reveal something new and every memory exposed another part of a story that none of them fully understood.Now that the photograph popped up, it felt like another missing piece and that meant that if one forgotten item had survived all these years, then there was a chance that others ha
Matteo's question still lingered in the room long after the conversation ended, nobody rushed to rescue Andre from it or answer for him because they also wanted to understand what it actually felt like. Eventually Matteo had been sent to bed and he didn't leave without hugging Andre and reminding him that he still hadn't received an answer. Andre had laughed at that but Lorenzo had noticed that for the rest of the evening, his brother had grown quieter, not uncomfortable or upset, he was simply thoughtful as though the question had awakened memories he usually would allow himself to remember. The following morning, Lorenzo found him sitting alone on the terrace overlooking the vineyard when Matteo had left for school, with a mug of coffee resting on the pavement beside him. The liquid had long since gone cold because Andre appeared more interested in the view than the drink. Lorenzo stood there for a while before he took an empty chair to sit down beside him. Neither man had spok
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime and for a second, Isabella simply stood there, her breath shallow, her mind trying to process all that had happened. The guards waited silently and unyielding behind her, their presence pressing against her back like a warning.She stepped out slowly.
Isabella didn’t wait.The moment Lorenzo walked out of the exhibition room, the air rushed back into her lungs, but it wasn’t that of relief but panic.Her hands trembled slightly as she gathered her tools, shoving them into her bag with far less care than usual because her every instinct kept scre
Two nights later, Isabella stood in front of Sofia’s mirror, just staring. The figure in the glass nearly resembled a person she didn’t recognize, it was merely a female figure wearing a navy blue gown, uncomplicated yet graceful, nothing flashy. She had deliberately selected the dress, something m
The studio was quiet except the sound of Isabella Romano’s brush moving lightly over the cracked surface of the old canvas. The lamp light bathed the painting in a warm glow as she leaned in close, her steady hand guiding the fine bristles over faded paint. The piece stretched across her wooden tab







